


Ice

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: For your prompt: Location - a party Object - an ice cube Dialogue - “I can’t believe you just did that.”Slightly NSFW. Post-IWTB, honeymoon period?





	Ice

The music from the bar is so loud that Mulder feels the bass between the bones at the base of his throat. He’s too far gone to remember the name, but he touches them with his finger and thumb and tips the remainder of his scotch into his mouth.

“Another?” Scully says, well, shouts up at him. She’s delightfully girlish in a V-necked pink tee and three-quarter pale denim jeans, deck shoes on her feet.

He can’t remember the last time they went to a party. He can’t remember the last time Scully grinned so often. He even caught her swaying to the music, some pop tune he’d heard on the radio. The longer hair suited her. A wash of freckles is gleaming over her face and neck. The island sun has refreshed them both. Someone yells limbo! and the crowd parts, allowing the more flexible among them to compete on the sand. A fire pit spits amber flames into the midnight sky.

Her body is warm against his side. A slice of moonlight turns her sparkling wine silver. She sips it, holding his gaze, with the wet-eyed look that drives him wild. She leans up, kissing him and that’s when he does it. Takes the ice cube he’s been holding between his teeth and drops it down the front of her top. They both watch it slide down the valley of her breasts leaving a watery trail behind it.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she says.

He can’t either. Perhaps the booze, perhaps the starlight, perhaps there’s no need for a reason. He pulls her to a darker spot, where the party rises on the horizon as background noise and colour. He nuzzles her wet chest and she strokes his hair, whispering something unintelligible but utterly sexy into his crown.

His hands skim the warm skin of her stomach, up, up. Heaven-high. She’s telling him they shouldn’t, they should go back to the room, but there are men contorting themselves under low bars and women hula-hooping and he’s in no mood to conform to the norms of honeymoon sex.

“Scully, it’s party time,” he grunts. She laughs into the gristle in his neck.

The taste of her nipple is whisky and ice, salt and spice. He laves and sucks as she shimmies out of her jeans. Sliding a thumb along her pubis, she presses herself harder against him, forehead hitting his chin. She plants two kisses at the pit of his throat and somewhere his brain supplies the word hyoid. His cock throbs on the tide of those two syllables.

His shorts rumple against the sand. There’s no time to remove her panties, she’s hooked a leg around his back and his thumb loops the gusset aside. Behind him, Arrow are singing Feeling Hot Hot Hot and it’s not even ironic. He slides inside her, she pushes up to meet him. Hip to hip, they’re lashed together, riding their own wave. There’s a moment when he looks down, bodies sand-coloured in the darkness, rippling like the sea. She sighs as she comes and he spills into her, lips pressed to the curve of her shoulder.

Her top is rucked up and as she pulls it down, the ice cube, reduced to a tiny shard, sits on the folds. She holds it up to the sky and it’s like a star between her fingers. They watch it melt and she holds her cold fingers to his mouth as they walk back to their room.


End file.
